


In Your Name

by narnia



Category: The Following
Genre: Character Deaths, Gen, M/M, Physical and Mental Abuse, Suggestive Material, Violence, hinted Roderick/Louise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-07 21:37:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narnia/pseuds/narnia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The monsters always caught him. They weren't going to anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. page one

**Author's Note:**

> I love Roderick so much and I've decided there needs to be more of him.
> 
> This is unbeta'ed.

They're coming after him, chasing after him. They'll get him, he knows, but that doesn't stop him from trying to get away. He has to get away, has to get away from them. Those who do bad things, those who torment others, those who hurt him. He can practically feel their claws in his back, feel their warm breathe on the back of his neck. They're getting closer and the boy only runs away faster. 

He's lost, he knows this. He doesn't care. All he knows is that if he runs fast enough, hard enough, he won't have to go back to that bad place. If he doesn't go back, he won't have to feel their hands all over him, he won't have to feel the belt on his back and behind his knees. He won't have bruises anymore and maybe, just maybe, he can find a nice little family and be like the other kids at school, the ones who don't have to wear layers of clothing to cover up the worst of the bruises. 

He has to run faster. 

The boy runs until his muscles tighten and ache. He runs until he can't, until is breathe is coming out in rasps, until his feet are numb, until he's sure his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. He runs until they get him.

He screams when it happens, he kicks and struggles. He feels his shoe connect with someone's face and that someone mutters a loud curse. Arms are around his middle, squeazing tightly as if they don't want him to escape, they don't want him to squirm and try to bite those arms away. He tries to get away until he can't anymore, until he begins to feel drowsy. His limps are weighed down and his head lolls to the side. He can't run anymore and they make sure of it.

He wakes up in a cold bed and a warm hand in his own small one. There's someone sitting beside his bed and he doesn't know who. The world is a blur when he opens his eyes and looks to see who it is. What he sees has the beeping of the heart monitor increase. No, it's her. 

No no no no no no no n-

"Honey, honey-" he hears her say through the ringing he hears, "- Wesley, hun, sh - Get a nurse!"

And he's struggling again with his eyes tightly shut. He can't go back. He can't, he can't, he can't - and everything's gone silent and cold and dark again.

When he wakes up again, he doesn't feel panic. He doesn't feel cold, doesn't feel afraid. He can't feel anything and he's beginning to wonder why, but he can't even think that because the lights are flickering and he can't speak. He can't let the nurse know that he feels weird, that he feels shaky and asleep, but awake. And isn't that interesting? He'll have to look this feeling up once he gets home. 

But that's the thing, isn't it? He doesn't want to go home. Home is where the bad people are. Home is where there are hands doing things he doesn't want. Home is where pain and fear are. He doesn't want that. However, he can't find it in himself to get away as far as he can. He can't it in himself to care. 

And, in the background he hears, "It's all going to be okay, son"

When he gets home his German Shepherd greets him with a big lick in the face. His mother shoos him away despite his weak protests, but the dog does sit instead and awaits for affection from the boy. He kneels down and wraps his arms around the dog. How could he ever go away and leave his best friend behind? He hates himself just thinking about it and ends up hugging the dog tighter. 

"Missed you, Hudson," the boy whispers before his mother grips his arm and tugs him up and away from the dog. She leads him to the kitchen where she has him sit down at the counter. 

"We were worried, Wesley," she says, bending down a little so she's closer to his face, searching it, "don't ever do that again, understood?" And when the boy doesn't do anything, she cups the back of his head. "I said, don't do that again, Wesley. Do you understand?"

"Yes, mother," the boy says, knowing exactly what the woman will do to him if he doesn't obey. His mother leaves him there, sitting on a stool at the counter, while she makes him eggs with bacon and toast. Sometimes he wishes his mother was like the other mothers. Nothing came out of wishing though, he learned that when he was seven. 

 

 

 

He's running again. Not through a dark wood this time, not from them, not from the hands that do bad things to him. No. This time he's running from something more dangerous, someone more terrifying than what his mother could ever be. If he doesn't run fast enough, if he doesn't try hard enough, he'll find him and catch him and punish him. He has to do this, he can't fail. 

He does fail in the end. 

The park is abanoned and dark, the streetlights the only thing that is illuminating the space. He's running in the dark in the middle of the park when it happens. He hears a russeling coming from his left, he hears the soft breath of someone who's been running every morning. He's not even aware when it happens, the person muffled by his own labored breathing and his own heavy foot falls through the grass and leaves. 

When it does happen, he's tackled to the ground and pinned there by a weight on his back. He ends up spitting dirt out of his mouth and he struggles to get him off, but then there is something cold and sharp pressing into the back of his neck. He feels the weight lean down and lips at his ear, hot breathe tickling at it.

"You'll have to try harder, Roderick," says the man before he leans back and presses the tip of the blade into his shoulder. 

 

 

 

It does get easier after that. He learns how to be a little more quiet, a little more observant. He learns to be patient, to be likable. He learns to run faster, to run harder. He suddenly changes his major to Criminal Justice at Winslow and moves out of his parents' house. He's staying in a little cabin with no electricity. It's his mentor's doing, telling him that it will help condition him into being the person he always wanted to be. It'll help him grow strong, it'll help him leave behind his parents shadow and forget the awful abuse that came from their hands. 

It's what his mentor wants and whatever He wants, Roderick wants. 

This is why he's confused when he's being lead to an old factory. It's decaying, it has mold, it has garbage littered on the ground and he begins to wonder why he's being lead down here in the first. place. He follows his mentor though without question, telling himself that his mentor would never hurt him without a purpose. So there must be a reason. But the farther they go, the longer they're down here, the question nags in his mind.

"Why are we down here?"

He's asked if he's scared. No. Well, kind of, but he doesn't want his mentor to know that.

"No. Should I be, Professor Carroll?" 

The lights turn on and he has to blink to get used to it before he sees the woman on the table. She's held down by straps and there's duct tape over her mouth. She's squirming and looks afraid and suddenly he's reminded of when he was just a kid, running through that dark wood, trying to get away from the monsters that were at home. There's something mixed going on within him though when his mentor takes out the knife. He watches the knife skim over her skin, over her face, over her chest before it stops at her abdomen. 

Joe wants to teach him and he's going to stand there. He's going to stand there and watch because he owes Joe everything. He owes him his life and that's what he's going to do. After all, if Joe wishes it, Roderick will do it. 

No more monsters will be able to hurt him again.

 

 

 

Joe gives him a place to stay for free. Joe pays his way through The Police Academy. Joe gives him food. Joe takes him out to socialize on the weekends or if they both don't have anything going on. In return, Joe asks for favors. Joe shows him how and he does it. It's a simple arrangement, nothing more. He doesn't ask for things because he knows Joe has given him so much already. He would feel like shit if he even dared to ask for maybe more than two meals a day. 

It's okay, though, he gets enough to eat and drink. And on the weekends Joe will take him out to meet people, mostly girls, and when the night is over, they'll follow those girls and Joe will show him many things to do with the human body. Most girls scream, some girls plead and try to bargain with them. In the end all of the girls die in a pool of their own blood. Joe will get in a certain mood and he'll look at Roderick with a particular look in his face, a look Roderick hasn't seen before. Joe will ask for another favor and Roderick will have no choice but to fulfill it. 

It's the way things work. Roderick doesn't complain because sometimes, Joe will give in and buy him something to eat while they're out. It's good enough for him. 

There's on particular night when they go out. Joe and Roderick both don't have any classes the next morning, so when Joe stops by the cabin and lets him out, Roderick gets excited. When Joe drives them into the city square, Roderick is almost bouncing with energy, even though he usually gets a good work out at the academy. Joe does have to rein him in a few times, but the night goes as planned. 

They chat up a group of girls, they pick out two and follow them to an isolated stretch of the street. It's a residential neighborhood and it's late, so no one will be able to hear them scream. Something's off though, something's weird. They do corner the girls in an alley, but it turns out one actually goes to the academy with him. That's his first mistake, not noticing that she does. Joe won't be happy and in the end he isn't.

He kills the brunette while Joe chases after the blonde that attends the same police academy as him. Unlike Joe, Roderick's a fan of using his own two hands to kill, so he watches the girl's eyes flutter as his hands tighten around her throat, suffocating her. When it's done, Joe isn't back yet and Roderick's pacing back and forth, forgetting what it is he should be doing about now. A minute longer and he finally sees Joe who has a fine layer of sweat on his brow. Clearly that blonde had given him a good run. Roderick's going to see if Joe's alright when he's suddenly being pushed until his back is pushing against the brick wall behind him. 

"You idiot! Why didn't you notice that she goes to school with you?"

Roderick doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to tell Joe to make him stop. It turns out that he doesn't need to say anything. Joe takes a step back and releases him. He looks calm now and Roderick is ignorant to think that Joe is over the little episode, that everything will be fine and the two can do away with the brunette's body. So when Joe suddenly lashes out and grabs his arms, it's safe to say that he's surprised. He's thrown to the ground, his palms becoming scraped and raw when he lands. Before he has the chance to get up and defend himself, Joe's kicking him in the side roughly, causing Roderick to cough up some blood, splattering it on the concrete beneath him. 

"You're a disgrace," Joe spits out before quitting his assault on Roderick's abdomen. He leans down over the young man before turning him onto his back. "No wonder your mother and father hit you, they couldn't stand having a son like you." Joe's hands find themselves around his throat, squeezing harshly before relaxes them. "But that is why you were braught to me, wasn't it? To fix their mistakes."

There are tears in Roderick's eyes, a few falling from his eyes and down his cheeks. He hasn't felt this afraid since before Joe. After all, Joe has never lain an angry hand on him, only a gentle one. He's never spoken harsh, biting words, only kind and constructive ones. Roderick finds himself nodding through the pain and the tears. There's snot coming from his nose, but he's not worried about that. All he sees is the man that he considers so much more than a friend staring down at him, the anger fading from his face and being replaced with regret. 

"Oh, my dear Wesley, my dear, drea boy," he speaks while he gathers up the scared and trembling blonde in his arms. "How could I get angry at you? After all, you're my student, it only makes sense for a student to make mistakes so his teacher can fix them, then teach him not to make them again. That's what a good mentor does, isn't it?"

Roderick nods his head, burying his face in the sweater of his everything.

"Tell me you won't ever do that again," 

Roderick doesn't say anything, biting down on his lip roughly. The pain in his stomach is like fire, causing him to whimper softly before Joe grabs his arms again and pulls him back to look at him in the eyes. 

"Roderick, tell me you won't ever do that again," his says firmly. It's not a request, but an order and Roderick finds himself nodding. Yes, he won't ever do that again. 

 

 

After the police find another girl, they begin investigating and a Joe Carroll is arrested.


	2. page two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how to tag things, apparently, but I hope you all know that this fic will be violent and will have suggestive material. Please keep that in mind.
> 
> Again, this is unbeta'd.

He works hard now. It's not easy being a Sheriff, being in charge of people, especially people in law enforcement. But he's good at it, been good at it for a while now. Eight, almost nine, years after Joe Carroll got arrested. That's a very long time to wait for something. And when it's been released that Joe Carroll has escaped from prison and is on the run, it is very exciting to know that that long way will soon be over and things will finally begin. 

But then Joe Carroll is in custody again and Roderick finds himself disappointed. He finds himself to be let down - after all, to be anticipating something, to be waiting on something, and then finding out that it won't come to pass ... It's a little more than disappointed. However, Roderick is Sheriff of Havenport, and he will act like a well decorated force of the town's police. He will act like his mother wanted him to - and he almost thinks that she would be proud of him if she knew, if she knew just how well known and respected he's become. 

Still, there's this little part of him, just a little part in the back folder in his mind, that reminds him that his mother would never be proud of him, would never look at him with fondness in her eyes since dear old dad died in the Gulf War. 

It causes unease in his stomach, but he has a job to do, so he gets out of his police cruiser and walks into the station. 

Everyone's normal when he walks in. 

Of course they would be normal. Joe Carroll isn't their problem.

No, not yet anyway. 

And Roderick continues his work as usual. It's a normal day in a normal small town as a normal police force. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing unusual or not normal. It's boring and these are the days he hates most. The days where there isn't much going on, maybe a speeding ticket or two, and he gets to sit in his office or cruiser alone with his mind. 

His mind is his worst enemy. It's also his best tool. 

He gets to think of things that aren't pleasant. Like the first time he killed with Joe, the first time he saw the carnal desire in the man's eyes, the first time his mentor actually went after him and brought him down in the park. 

He gets to think of the first time Joe ever touched him without it being platonic. 

 

 

 

"Doesn't it get your blood pumping, Roderick?"

Joe is standing above a girl, her corpse as pale as the whitest stone and her eyes as dim as an early morning fog. Yes, Joe is standing there with blood staining his hands and a knife still be clutched in one. He looks beautiful like this, like a god who is seeking vengence on the women on the streets. The girl's a student who attended his Literature class. 

At least, that's what Roderick thinks. He can't tell because of all the blood and dirt. 

"I suppose," he says in reply, looking down at the girl. 

It does, it really does, but not in the same way it does with Joe, apparently. Because Joe now is looking at him and Roderick watches as his tongue glides over his lips. It's very attractive, he knows that, but he doesn't feel anything more than that. Instead he feels better. Better about himself, about his life, about his future. 

Hell, he feels like he could run miles and never get tired. 

Obviously Joe is talking about a much different adrenaline than Roderick's own. He's talking about something more primal than just feeling like he could be the most powerful man on the earth. 

The evidence is in his jeans and suddenly Roderick is very aware of the short distance between the two. 

"Tell me how it makes you feel," Joe says as he steps over the corpse on the dirt ground to stand in front of his student. "Tell me how brilliant it is, how peaceful she looks in death. Tell me that you feel a-light when you pushed this knife into her body, how the blade just slides right in, ignorng the flesh, the blood, the muscle. The way she screamed and pleaded for you to stop, to spare her petty and pathetic life-"

Roderick doesn't mean to, but he interrupts his mentor - he doesn't think of the consequences, he just does.

"I don't feel it like you do," he says quickly, making sure to emphasize his words. He knows what Joe is getting at, how it makes the man in front of him aroused. That's not his problem though, it has never been and will never be his problem. "Go home to your wife, Joe. Clean up, take her out to dinner, and then fuck her."

There's a moment of silence between them. The two men just staring at each other, neither quite realizing what will happen in a few moments time. 

And when things do happen, they don't drag out. They happen very quickly and Roderick suddenly has hands wrapped around his throat and he's trying to get Joe away from him, but he can't quite reach and then the world is getting dark and he can't breathe - he fucking can't breathe, oh god, Joe is going to kill him and leave his body there next to the girls and -

Suddenly he can breathe again and he's coughing, trying to get his breathe back into his body. 

"Don't you ever talk to me like that again, Roderick," his mentor says, standing above him and that's when he realizes he's on the ground, "you will not like the repercussions."

 

 

 

Joe is scolding him like a damn puppy that went to the bathroom inside the house. 

His mother used to talk to him like that, especially when he grew up. Her voice laced with disappointment, with discontent. She would look down at him, she looked like she wanted to hit him, she always looked like she wanted to hit him and he knew why. It was because he was a failure as a son, he was a failure as being a public icon's son. 

He would want to hit himself too, if he were in his mother's shoes. 

One day before he ran off with Joe, his mother was scolding him again, looking at him with such distane in her eyes. She told him how he was going to graduate with a major in Political Science, just she did when she was in college. And then he tried to argue with her about wanting to major in Literature, not some political bullshit that he didn't have an interest in. 

The first, not a slap this time, didn't surprise him. 

He just looked at her and wanted to hurt her so bad. All the time she had talked down to him, had hit him, had told him how much of a fucking failure he was. It all exploded and suddenly he had his hands around her throat, backing her against the counter. 

I am so sick of this bullshit, mother, he had told her, watching as he struggled to get him away, and I'm going to graduate and you're never going to see me again, understand?

And once she nodded and he let go, she fixed her hair and stared at him. Fine, she had said, you can minor in Literature.

That was the end of that and now he's being reminded of it all when Joe suddenly lashes out and he finds himself cupping his nose. 

And he's remembering all the times his face has been bloodied, how many times his nose has been bleeding. He remembers every kick, every scream, every slap, every punch. He remembers everything and suddenly he's just that little boy beneath his bed, clutching at his stuffed bunny as they come closer to his bedroom and then the door opens and hands are pulling at him, voices are telling him to get the fuck up and he's staring at-

"Don't you mean us?" his voice grates as he stands up, not afraid anymore. Joe's just another piece of shit like his mother and father and all those kids at the grown up parties. He's just another copy of the people who think they can hurt him and get away from it. 

Before he can do anything else, he turns his back and storms out of the study, banging the door against the wall as he does so.

 

 

 

"Don't you feel it, Roderick?"

They're standing over another corpse again and the same high they both feel runs through them. The high is much different between them, however it still has the same effect - quick beating hearts, heavy breaths, blood on their hands, sweat on their brow. 

It's the same, yet it is so very different. 

"I feel it, Joe," he replies, having learned the correct response and response time Joe prefers. Roderick is standing on the opposite side of the corpse, this time a male in his early twenties. He looks like a saint under the faint glow of the park light. He knows the young man isn't an angel at all, knowing just what he did to his sister when he thinks no one is looking. It was a surprise to have learned that Joe was leaving the victim up to him this time. 

He thinks he chose correctly. 

"Yes, you feel the pull in your gut, the warmth deep down, the need to express that pent up energy from sliding the blade deep into the muscle." Joe steps over the corpse and towards him, staring at him with such deep depth eyes. The pupils are blown in those brown eyes and Roderick licks his lips ever so slightly. It's not a surprise when those eyes flicker and zero in on the motion. "So you do feel it, too."

Joe, you have Claire for that, he wants to say.

But then Joe already has both hands behind his head and their are teeth against his own and Joe's tongue doesn't even pay heed to the fact that maybe Roderick doesn't want it to be this rough. There's no choice though, so instead of fighting it, Roderick just responds with aggression, the only thing he can think of. 

 

 

 

 

Louise is in the room again, in Joe's study, when Roderick opens the door and walks in. She's standing at the edge of his writing desk, toying with one of her small pocket knives. 

"Where's Joe?" he asks as he settles to stand mere feet away. It's a rare thing to see Joe out of his study, especially since the man is so intent on writing that book of his. He hardly has time, he hardly makes time, to anything else besides his book. Claire even seems to be second to his book - though that could be the fact that she wants nothing to do with him. 

Louise has a smirk on her face now, just a small one, however he knows that kind of smirk fairly well. It means she's willing to play tonight and that would be great, except he's not in the mood at all. Work was long and repititive today and all he wants to do is take his uniform off and shower. 

"He's not here, obviously,"she states as she begins slinking her way over to him. Like a cat when it sees a canary. He doesn't feel much like prey usually, but this woman has a way of making anyone feel like they're just a step down from her. "But I'm here and you look like you could use some company."

Normally he would be willing, would be more than ready to play her little game. Now all he wants is to let Joe know he's off work. They need to discuss what will happen next.

"No, I really don't," he says, taking a step back. It's his first mistake for he never backs away from anyone but Joe and this time Louise notices and her smirk turns into a grin. A not so very nice grin. He doesn't like that grin on anyone but himself. "I'm serious. I need to talk to Joe."

Apparently he doesn't look serious enough to warrent her to stop. 

She stands in front of him now, her little blade being brought up to his face. He can feel the smooth metal run over his jaw, over his lips, then it finally settles on his neck. There is no danger here, just mere children's play as she moves the blade to the sharp tip is digging into his skin. 

"But, Ricky, I wanna play," she says, not amount of pout on her lips. Louise isn't one to beg or plead. She demands and she usually gets what she wants. Well, one way or another. "Don't you?"

No. 

No, he really doesn't. 

"C'mon, play with me, Ricky."

He hates when she calls him that. And only she calls him that, no one else. 

"I'll make you play."

And suddenly he feels the blade dig deeper into his skin, a little droplet of blood trickling down his neck and he eventually finds his hands around her throat when he bends her over the sofa.


End file.
